CHAPTER 5
— HOW IS THE BOY, Doctor? — Asked Gregory Evans as he looked at the boy.
The Doctor. Ralph Bryant frowned in obvious concern.
— He fell into a coma, his organism is very fragile, the next twenty-four hours will be decisive for his survival, the impact was violent and reached some internal organs.
Suddenly, a man in a suit and black hat enters, he takes off his glasses and holds out his hand to shake hands with the doctor and Gregory Evans.
— Nice to meet you, my name is Pietro Ferri, from Interpol, I'm the agent assigned to this case.
He handed her some photos of the place and some information about the boy.
GREGORY EVANS LOOKED once more at the photos released by Interpol; there was no doubt, it was him, Freddy Martinez, a sixteen-year-old boy, kidnapped less than 24 hours ago in the city of New Jersey, but nobody knew where that boy was from.
— What do you think of that? — Asked the agent showing him the photos of the massacre in the abandoned church.
— A cowed animal will do anything, the problem is he'll get the blame for killing a senator's son.
The experienced policeman then turned to look at the boy carefully and it was impossible not to feel uncomfortable with that, he analyzed the photos again and saw a strange burn right in the center of his chest.
— It looks like the RHCP symbol.
— RHCP? What is that?
—Red Hot Chilli Peppers.
Gregory laughed, finding that one of the most absurd things he had ever heard in his life, and sang:
— Give it away... Give it away... Give it away... now...
This time it was the Interpol agent who laughed.
— Hardly anyone will be kidnapped in the name of a Californian rock band.
Heavens! what is this?
His insides stirred in anguish as he beheld that terrible blackened burn:
— Who would dare to do that to a child? — This symbol, Pietro, what does it really mean?
— It's totally unknown to me, Greg.
— It's simpler than you think, Detective — said a man as he entered the room — it says "Anu", it's a Sumerian language.
GREG LOOKED AT PIETRO and didn't understand anything. The man approached and held out his hand.
— My name is Roman Green, and in addition to being a priest, I'm a professor of history and Egyptology at New York University.
— It's a pleasure, Father Green, but...
— What am I doing here? It's very simple, he's my nephew, I was looking for him and coincidentally I saw you guys running after him and I followed you here, I'm his legal guardian since his mother's death.
— Do you know why they did that?
The priest nodded.
— Actually, they were after me and used him as bait...
— Wait a minute — said Pietro — why the hell would they be after you, Father?
The priest took a deep breath as he turned his gaze to his nephew, surrounded by devices and plunged into a sleep that could last forever.
— Do you like history, cops?
— More than you can imagine, Father... — said Greg, interested for the first time in the priest — much more than you can imagine...
GREG LISTENED TO THE STORY of the priest and stared at the list he had of the boys who had been killed by Freddy at Trinity Church in Manhattan.
— You know if that list gets out it's going to be one of the biggest political scandals of the century.
Greg knew that better than anyone else.
— So, Greg, what are you going to do?
— I think it's time to call in an old debt, Pietro, and I hope your Interpol contacts will help.
***
THE MAN LIGHTED A CIGARETTE and puffed into the air, he had trusted that boy's life in the hands of other boys by orders from above, but he realized that if you want something done right, you have to do it with your own hands...